The Worrying Disease

Why do I worry so much? Why do I have so much anxiety? As a psychology major I should know better than to blame it all on the parents. It's not entirely my mom's fault that she is a compulsive worrier and passed this learned behavior on to me. I keep trying to break the chain. Will I ever succeed in worrying less?

Of course embracing the Islamic faith has helped immensely. After all it is a religion that practices peace. It has taught me to not worry about the things that I cannot control. Everything that happens comes from Allah, so why do I have to worry about it? What will happen will happen. I still catch myself worrying, but not to the extent that I used to, and certainly nothing like my mom's worrying.

Some of the most vivid memories of my mom's worries or influence from are kind of amusing (now). My mom was overly worried about my sister or I getting kidnapped. We had the book "The Dangers of Strangers" and other such childhood reads. Meanwhile, other kids were reading Care Bears and Princess stories. Somehow all of my mom's "stranger scare tactics" didn't affect me too much. My sister, on the other hand, was frightened beyond belief. We'd be riding bikes or walking down the street and all of a sudden my sister would veer off to hide behind whatever was available. The threat? A car simply driving down the road. Incidentally, my sister now hangs with her boyfriend in the "rough" neighborhood where there are drive-by shootings and people stab each other. How did she ever desensitize herself from that?

Let's not forget the morning I was on my way out the door to work. I was probably 16, looking good in my McDonald's uniform, and ready to walk out the door to work. It was a sunny summer morning and my car was parked right outside the house. The only other person awake was mom. As I'm walking out the door she says, "If someone is in the backseat of your car, and they stick a gun to your head, and they tell you to keep driving; don't keep driving! Jump out of the car! Don't drive them anywhere, just jump out! I would rather know you are dead in the street than wonder what unknown torture could be happening." My teenage, smart-aleck reply was this (after my mouth hung open for a minute), "Mom did you see someone get into my car this morning? If you did, I'd like to know." Then I left for work. What was that about? My parents should have built some sort of bio-dome so we wouldn't have to go to the outside world.

Although I worry less, I do get my bouts of anxiety from time to time. I don't know where any anxiety would come from in my life... Hmm... stalker ex-husband who is convinced I still love him and will come back to him? No, not from him. Hmm... feeling that biological clock tick as I approach 30 unmarried and childless? No, that couldn't be it. Maybe the men I fall for that are afraid of commitment? That couldn't possibly be it either. Must be all from my mom and her worrying disease.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. She can just drive a daughter nuts sometimes. Moms can be so good at that stuff. The crazy things they say, the guilt trips they give... best not to get started at this point.